Stepping Back on Stage

Several years ago, I returned to playing the piano as an amateur after a decade-plus hiatus. A few years into that return, I began performing at various amateur events. At first, I found it challenging but the more I did it, the easier and more enjoyable it became.

I loved the feeling of expressing something personally meaningful for an audience with a shared passion. Performing also gave my practice focus and direction. It turbocharged my progress because I had something concrete to work towards. Pieces weren’t just being “kept going” – they were being refined and polished. The fulfilment I gained by playing for others created a positive cycle, keeping me motivated and inspired.

“What Note Does It Start On?!”

Then the pandemic happened and everything paused. Like so many amateur musicians, my rhythm was disrupted. While I continued to play for myself, the momentum was gone and with it, the performing skills I’d built up went into decline.

When I finally had the opportunity to perform again, I knew I’d be a little nervous and rusty. I hadn’t played publicly in a long time and many of the other musicians were professionals performing at a very high standard. So I tried to make it easy for myself. I chose a piece I knew extremely well – something I could play from memory, safely within my comfort zone. I even had the score on standby, just in case!

But when I sat down at the piano, something strange happened…

I couldn’t remember how the piece started!

Which note did it begin on? What key was it in (the clue was in the title!)? The familiar physical sensation of the opening under my hands had completely disappeared.

After several false starts, the rest of the performance felt like groping in the dark. This was a piece that, under normal circumstances, I could play beautifully. Yet there I was, struggling through something that should have felt secure and straightforward. It rattled me. Despite having prepared carefully and looking forward to the performance, I left feeling deflated, my confidence knocked.

Stagnation …and Getting Out of the Rut

Unsurprisingly, after this experience I shied away from performing and retreated to playing exclusively for myself. The result of this was an accumulation of a broad repertoire of half-learned pieces, alongside others I merely “maintained” without real refinement. Practising became increasingly mechanical and works I once loved began to lose their spark.

As my motivation drained away, I recognised the vicious cycle I had slipped into. I’ve often encouraged other pianists in similar ruts to share their playing because I’ve seen how transformative it can be. And yet, I wasn’t doing it myself.

It was time to practise what I’d been preaching!

I decided on a gentle return to performance, gradually rebuilding confidence and rediscovering the joy. I selected pieces that weren’t overly demanding technically but were musically rewarding. I identified several supportive, encouraging events scheduled relatively close together, so I could try to regain some momentum.

Glimpses of Joy

The performances weren’t perfect – far from it. But in each one, at least something clicked. A phrase sang or I experienced a moment where I felt connected to the music and the audience. I caught glimpses of what was possible and it became a little easier each time, with more enjoyable moments and less frustration.

I also gained valuable insights and practical actions to take forward. I was able to apply several ideas I’d gleaned from recent workshops – strategies specifically for preparing for performance, maintaining focus and recovering when the wheels start to fall off. Each successful recovery built confidence and as confidence grew, slips became less likely.

Not only did I start looking forward to performing again, but I also felt newly inspired to refine my playing – not in pursuit of perfection, but in pursuit of expression. I began thinking more about what I wanted to communicate musically and less about producing a flawless rendition or what might go wrong. Going beyond a mechanical rendition of correct notes is where true fulfilment lies. This desire for deeper refinement made the hard work meaningful and rewarding again.

Just Do It!

Returning to performing has reminded me why I love the piano. Not just the music in itself, but the act of sharing and appreciating it with others.

If you’ve been hesitant about putting your playing out there, or if you’ve stepped away from performing due to a bad experience, I encourage you to take the plunge. It may feel daunting at first and it probably will not go perfectly. But it will move you forward. More importantly, it will ignite your passion for playing and connect you deeply with the joy that drew you to the piano in the first place.

I’ll leave you with some resources and practical tips to help you get started – and to help you when things don’t go exactly to plan!

– Ryan Morison (aka The Prodigal Pianist)